Wayward One
by amaranthineArcane
Summary: Mere months after the infamous Scratch case, Rose ends up bringing an abused troll of her own home from the bakery. Petstuck AU. Inspired by Loophole by saccharineSylph, Unwanted Free Ugly Troll by coldhope, and "Wayward One" by Alter Bridge.
1. Chapter 1

_"And they cry; and they call as the wayward walk alone..."_

-Alter Bridge

* * *

Day in, day out, your day is the same.

Each and every day, you get up and go to the office, stopping only for a quick lunch, and both to and from the office building you're detoured slightly by territorial dogs – you never liked the slobbering beasts much – but you make it home safe and sound.

That is, until the day you meet a troll on the street on your way home and your whole life changes.

You've seen trolls before, in wealthy homes on television – and occasionally in a front yard or garden but no less wealthy – ones in fancy getups and gem-studded collars. Sweet fuzzy little things that babble in the universal language of infants and the occasional intelligible word or two. Those are also typically overweight and lazy.

This is not one of those pampered housepets.

The troll is very small, and thin, and has tiny horns that are just beginning to fork and branch off – by the time she's fully grown you figure they'll resemble the antlers of a deer – but otherwise are softly rounded nubs, and a jungle of tangled tawny-brown hair that cascades down her back, unlike the licorice-black hair you've seen on other trolls. This tiny troll – for she is so tiny she could have dressed in doll's clothes and they would have still been too big – is standing just beneath the bakery window with her little hands? paws? gripping the edge of the windowsill and trying to pull herself up so she can get a good look inside. Intrigued, you stand on the sidewalk for a moment to watch. After a moment she lets go, stares up at the window, then disappears around the corner into an alley and comes back a moment later pushing a box. It's old and a bit soggy, but she looks so small you have no doubt it will hold her weight. She stands for a moment, then vanishes again and comes back with another, smaller box, then another, and another, each one smaller than the last. Now she has a tiny staircase made up of old thrown-away boxes and she climbs up them one at a time until she's standing on the biggest one, with her thin arms propping her up on the windowsill as she looks in at the bread and other baked goods. Then she notices your reflection in the window and sees you watching, and turns to you and smiles and waves before turning back to the window.

You stand and watch a minute longer, then continue on your way to return home. The troll is all but forgotten.

Next day, same route. The troll is still there, standing outside the bakery, staring into the window. She seems a bit drenched. You have a rousing suspicion that she was either doused with a hose or bucket of water from the bakery owner, or splashed by a passing vehicle. If it was the first, it certainly hasn't deterred her, because she's still there. She looks so thin, and you don't see a collar; actually, you don't see any clothing at all: she's bare as a newborn's behind. Most likely a stray, or someone's runaway pet. But there is no way she could not have had an owner at some point. She would not have known to stack those boxes like she had, nor would she have smiled and waved at you yesterday in such a friendly, human manner.

In an instant, your mind is made up.

You were running out of bagels anyway.

* * *

It takes two seconds for the troll to learn that you've brought her food, and in no time she's devouring the bagel you'd given her. You keep having to remind her to slow down or she'll make herself sick, but you understand her eagerness. This is probably the first thing she's eaten in a good while.

When she's slowed down enough that it's come to about one tiny bite per minute, you decide to ask her a few questions; no harm in seeing if she can talk. At first all you recieve are nods or headshakes, but you figure that's mostly because of the food occupying her attention. Then you ask her where is she from and how did she end up here on the street and she swallows and starts talking. Her speech is in broken, childish sentences, but that's to be expected, and for the record it's much better than you thought it would be, judging from the trolls you'd seen on television.

"Useta lif inna woods wif Granny and Grampa. Liked it lots. One day Granny falled sleep. She no wake up. Den peoples comed and taked Grampa way. Leaf Halien wif nasty peoples. Put leash on, lif out in doggyhouse. Doggy not nice. Doggy bite." It's at this moment that you see bite marks and scabs and small scars on her arms and legs, and a tiny cut that mars the bridge of her nose. "Sometimeses peoples no gif Halien food or anyfin. So me runned way, look for peoples be my friend. You be my friend?" She holds out a very tiny hand? paw? with a big smile on her face and your heart breaks.

You tell her of course you will.

* * *

You decide to take her home with you right then and there, and you two make an odd sight: the tall, pale woman crouched and shuffling along so the very tiny troll can grip at her fingers and toddle alongside her. But you don't give two shits, and you don't think she does either.

Of course when you get home, Kanaya asks for an explanation the instant she sees the troll, and you settle Halien down in front of the television first to keep her entertained before telling your wife what the tiny troll told you: the death of one of her previous owners and – you assume – the other being taken away to a retirement home and her being left in the custody of whoever the old couple's children were and her poor treatment and her running away – which Kanaya even agrees seems like the most sensible thing to do. When you're done explaining, she looks into the living room and studies the bony troll on the couch and you can see her heart breaking just as yours did. Then she tells you that Halien can stay – only if her story is true, and she is your responsibility. But that's pretty much a straightforward yes, because the only honest people in the world are small children and the drunk.

* * *

Before anything else can be done, Halien needs to be bathed and clothed. Luckily she allows you to plunk her in the tub and wash her without complaint. Definitely not a feral troll, with the way she is squealing in joy and patting at the bubbles. The only difficult part is getting her dressed; old t-shirts slide right off, even old ones from your childhood days that you meant to give to charity long ago. In the end you have to go out and buy a newborn's onsie, just for the sake of her having something to wear, and a child's toothbrush and toothpaste. By the time she's dressed and her sharp little teeth are brushed, she's asleep on her feet and clinging weakly to your skirt, and you notice as though for the first time – though you've always known it – that other than her horns and pale gray skin she looks just like anyone's child. You set up a pile of blankets on the couch – you remember reading something about trolls liking to nest in just about anything soft – and she sinks in and disappears when you set her on it.

Kanaya looks at you when you sit down next to the pile on the couch and shakes her head; while you were gone shopping she took the liberty of looking at missing pet and troll ads. No one was looking for a lost troll. Surely someone would have noticed she was gone, unless they just didn't care in the slightest. The latter seems much more likely.

You sigh, then look at the pile of blankets on the couch next to you; a tiny gray hand is peeping out and gripping one of the blankets.

Looks like she's here to stay.


	2. Chapter 2

_"City lights, urban sprawl; in a place no one should know..."_

-Alter Bridge

* * *

Another new day, and you've decided, just to put your nerves at ease, to take Halien to the vet. Even after the Scratch case, doctors aren't quite ready to take trolls as patients. No surprise, since the notion of trolls being pets and nothing but pets is still deeply engraved in all but the select few.

It seems as though you've become one of those select few.

To your surprise, when you enter the bathroom to help Halien brush her teeth a tiny blue-and-white jumper and equally-tiny white underoos for your new arrival are hanging from the doorknob. You expect Kanaya was awake for quite a while last night making them, and you make a mental note to thank her later, because she's already left for work. The clothes fit perfectly, and Halien seems quite comfortable in them. You scoop up the troll in your arms and make way for Porrim's veterinary practice just down the street.

During the five-minute walk, you can't help but think of all the possible things that could be horribly wrong: how small she is, for one thing, and how thin. Surely the scrawniness is from lack of nourishment, but does her size have anything to do with her abuse, or is it something else entirely? By the time you've arrived at the clinic, your head is a swirling mess from all the questions.

The receptionist sets up your appointment easily, as there is only one other person waiting in the lobby, and you go sit down while Halien toddles around and explores everything. It's so adorable, the way she pokes and prods and sniffs at everything, and while she's examining the wallpaper covered in dancing teddy bears – you assume only to calm the nerves of anxious pet owners and very young, nervous trolls – you notice a flicker of movement from behind the legs of the other person in the room. He's quite tall, with a roguish face and a red-streaked mohawk, and chocolate-brown eyes that look like they could melt just about anything no matter what his mood was. He grins and reaches behind his legs and gently leads out a young troll by a small hand. The troll is small – not Halien small, but you can tell he's very young, maybe around the same age – and his eyes are odd: one is a deep, bright blue while the other is cherry red, and they're given a glowy sort of appearance from behind the glasses perched on a freckled nose. There's a lime-green streak in his hair, and unlike Halien his ears have a very slight fin-like appearance to them; and his horns are odd: one side sports a pair of sharp curved horns while the other has a vague lightning-bolt shape. He's dressed in a little white sweater and blue jeans and green sneakers and he's so adorable your heart breaks for the second time in twenty-four hours. Halien stops studying the wallpaper and looks at him before carefully getting off the chair and approaching him slowly. They sort of stare at each other before they start sniffing each other like cats do, and the boy troll comes out of his hiding place and starts chirruping and squeaking in what you can only assume to be a troll's native language and Halien starts squeaking and chirruping back. The man smiles at the sight, then looks at you. "Is she yours?"

"Yes. Er, not officially, not yet. She's a rescue. Just brought her home last night."

He nods. "I found Erisol here about a month ago, scrawny and starvin' and lookin' like some poor pup that had been kicked too many damn times. Took a few days, but a few cans of salmon and he waltzed right in like he owned the place and hasn't left since." He extends a tan hand, lean and firm, toward you. "Rufioh Nitram."

You accept the offered hand. "Rose Maryam-Lalonde. And that's Halien."

He's about to say something else, but a nurse walks into the room and calls for you. You pick up Halien – she waves goodbye to her new friend first – and take her back into the examining room.

You just have to admit, Porrim is one of your favorite people in the world, and you don't think you'd trust anyone with Halien more than you would her. Sure, she's well-known for one-night-stands and quick flings, but the minute she sees Halien she smiles and extends a hand to the tiny troll and introduces herself. Halien, in turn, grips her index finger in her two tiny hands and shakes it and says "Peesetameechoo" and your heart breaks again. You're pretty sure Porrim's does too.

The examination goes quickly; Halien is so distracted by the wonder of the new place to mind anything Porrim is doing while you tell her what Halien told you the day before, and she hardly even notices when the vet draws a couple vials of cherry-red blood. When she does notice, it's when the needle is being taken out and a band-aid put on and she's staring at the spot as though she expected it to hurt more.

Porrim allows Halien to look at the animals while she talks with you. She's estimated that the troll is around two years old, and judging from her size and weight she was hatched prematurely, coupled with the abuse that she'd gone under. As to her blood and hair color – she tells you that bright red blood is considered a mutation amongst trolls – there is no way of telling what caused that until the blood tests return. But other than being dehydrated, malnourished, and very small and skinny she's perfectly healthy. She tells you to expect her horns to continue growing for the next few months, and at certain intervals over the next several years until adulthood they'll shed, like antlers; otherwise they would become so heavy she wouldn't be able to support her head because they'll continually grow until adulthood is reached. She also says that she'll try to locate whoever her first owner was – regarding if he's still alive – and report to you when she finds anything out. She doesn't bother scanning for a microchip; if she had one, it would just lead to her previous owners' establishment and she under no circumstances wants that. Then she hands you a couple tomes on troll care and crouches in front of Halien who is looking at a litter of fuzzy kittens that are just starting to toddle around and says goodbye to her and Halien says "Bye-bye Ockta Prim" and the heartbreak in the room is so heavy it's difficult to breathe.

You stop by the waiting room for Halien to say goodbye to Erisol and Rufioh suggests that you two arrange a park meeting together so Erisol and Halien can play and you say it sounds like a good idea and does Saturday sound nice? and he says that it would be perfect just as the nurse calls them back into the E.R. Halien waves goodbye one last time before she clings to your shirt as you take her back home.

* * *

Halien is already asleep by the time you arrive home, so you settle her in her pile of blankies and turn on the television. The news stations are abuzz – someone apparently broke into a troll incubation center and stole at least two eggs and numerous pieces of incubation equipment and troll care supplies, whether to raise them as their own or sell them once they've hatched or use them for their own dirty gain, you have no idea. Despite the recent excitement, you grow bored of the same story on every channel rather quickly and turn it on Nick Jr. instead for when Halien wakes up before going to tend to the household.

A couple hours later, you emerge from the laundry room to find Halien sitting on the couch, eyes glued intently to Wallykazam!, sucking her thumb and gleefully cheering the magic words on the screen.

Is this what your mother felt like when she raised you?

Is this what it's like to have children?

What's the difference between a troll child and a human child anyway? Aren't they pretty much the same?

You stare at the tiny child on the couch and your heart aches. It just aches. But in the best possible way.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Show no grace, show no love; these mean streets are meant for none..."_

_-_Alter Bridge

* * *

About an hour later you and Halien are at Shoe Carnival, inspecting sneakers. Halien has already objected to flats, sandals, and flip-flops, just like she's already objected to skirts and dresses when you go to Build-A-Bear for clothes afterward – not even the smallest of baby clothes will fit on her so you have no other option but to hit up a toy store because you will not have Kanaya working her ass off every night – but you sneak a pair of plain white sandals while she's not looking. She's currently inspecting two pairs of Chuck Taylors, one red and one violet.

"Can't chooz," she tells you, holding up one red Chuck and one purple.

"Then we'll get both," you tell her, gently taking the shoes from her and putting them back in their respective boxes. You really don't mind; you and Kanaya had talked about adopting a child and had set aside a fortune for baby and child care. You just hadn't expected adopting a troll. Besides, you can never have too many shoes.

You pick up Halien – you notice her tail wraps loosely around your arm when you cradle her – and pay for the shoes. She insists on going home to put one of the pairs on before you even leave the store. You can do nothing but comply, because her tail is cutting off the circulation to your arm.

* * *

Trolls have large feet, even as babies. Apparently their feet are almost their full size by the time the troll hatches and are directly proportional to its height when it's an adult. Halien had to get size five-and-a-half Chucks in women's sizes. You can tell she's not going to be very tall.

She insists on putting the red Chucks on by herself, but like all small children she gets them on the wrong feet. You tell her so with a chuckle and she asks what the difference is, which catches you. You've never heard anyone ask that before, and you're a bit unsure of how to explain it.

"Well... You see how your foot curves a little bit here?" You take one of her feet in your palm and run your finger along the curved side. "The shoe that goes on that foot curves the same way so it fits comfortably. Get it?"

She sits for a moment before her eyes light up in understanding and she nods. Then she picks up one of the shoes and studies it, then studies her feet before putting the shoe on. It takes a couple tries, but she eventually gets it and in a few minutes her shoes are on the right feet. You give her a high-five and tie them for her before scooping her up again. Once again, her tail curls around your arm, the hairy end tickling your wrist.

Now for Build-A-Bear, the most expensive toy store in the world. You're a bit nervous, mostly because you know the place will be crowded and people will be staring and you may end up getting kicked out for bringing a troll in with you. But you also don't know how Halien will react to being in a toy store. She will either ask for everything in the store or not ask for anything at all. You hope it's the latter.

* * *

Luckily no one says anything about a troll being in the store. The girl at the counter and a couple ladies give you odd looks, but no snide remarks or 'is that even legal', like you feared. If no one goes to the manager about it, you'll be happy the rest of the day. Granted, if trolls weren't allowed, there should be a sign saying so or something.

You leave Halien to look at the bears and other animals on display while you go look at clothes. There are just as many shirt and shorts combos as there are dresses and skirts, and some are more feminine than others but you don't think Halien will mind. You catch a few people giving you and Halien unsure looks, as though they feel they should tell you of the troll section at PetCo down the street; but at a second glance at the tiny Halien they probably decide you were smart to come here. PetCo's clothes would be too large. Every few minutes or so you look towards the displays to check on her, but about the time you're through and turn to look, your heart nearly stops.

There's an elderly man standing with Halien in his arms and at first you're worried that you're about to witness a kidnapping, but she's hugging him and talking excitedly and he's regarding her fondly. Maybe this is the "Grampa" she talked about? Then Halien points over at you and says something, and the man's face wrinkles in a smile as he walks over to you and offers his hand.

"Good afternood, Miss Rose. My name is Morty Smith. Are you the one who's taken in my little Halien?"

"Yeahyeah! Dis Grampa, Rose! Useta lif widim!" Halien crows happily, bouncing up and down in Morty's arms before jumping into yours. The elderly man's face once again wrinkles as he smiles.

"It seems there's a bit of an explanation in order. But first, one last gift for my little girl. This may be the last time I ever see her again. Don't worry, I'll pay for it." He takes Halien back from you and returns to the displays. You follow.

While Halien inspects the bins of unstuffed animals, he begins talking. "My wife Martha and I, we only ever had one child, and I don't think he turned out right. Cruel and unloving, caring about no one but himself, you see. Kicked puppies, pulled cats' tails, pushed over babies in strollers. And I hate to say it but when he left us we were glad of it. But we were lonely, and we could no longer have children, even though we wanted another child and nothing as short-lived as a dog or cat. It was around the time trolls were becoming popular as pets" – here he shuddered – "and we thought a troll would be perfect to have around. So we adopted a little bronze-blood we named Tavros. Friendly little guy, loved animals. He lived about thirty-six years before he passed away, but he lived a long and healthy life, as bronze-bloods go."

At this point he stopped for a moment; Halien had selected a river otter from the bin and looked as though that was the one she wanted. On to the stuffing machine. The girl there smiled and started helping Halien stuff the otter as Morty went on.

"Then one day we were touring the local hatching facility, thinking of adopting again, and this one little red egg starting moving around and hatching when we stopped to look. It was pandemonium; the doctors and nurses kept saying it was too early for it to be hatching and that the chances of survival were slim. But eventually they got the grub out of her egg and took care of what needed to be taken care of. When we asked about adopting another troll they asked if we could take the newborn if she lived for as long as she lived. Of course they would take care of the medical expenses. We agreed, and accepted the responsibility. She had been living with us for about a year when Martha died. She got so sick so quickly..." He pauses to wipe at his eyes with a hankerchief. "Then some people who worked at the retirement home on the other side of town came. They wouldn't let me take Halien with me, said trolls weren't allowed unless they were liscensed service..." He trails off here, and you know what he was about to say. Service animals. "So she was left in the care of my son. That was about six months ago now. It seems she must have run away."

You sense he's finished and nod. "I found her outside the bakery yesterday."

"So she told me," he chuckles. Then his face turns stony. "Believe me, if it weren't for the fact that she's in the legal care of my son, I would gladly hand over everything to you. She likes you a lot already."

"I'll take care of her for you."

By this time the otter is stuffed, "washed", clothed, and named – his name is apparently Ozzy. Morty pays and hugs Halien, who hands you the otter for a moment, before saying farewell.

"You goin' now?" she asks, teary-eyed.

"Yes, but don't worry. We'll see each other again someday. And don't worry about Kyle or the dog or the doghouse anymore; Miss Rose will take care of you."

You scoop Halien up into your arms and you both wave goodbye before leaving. "He's right, you know."

"Yeah?"

"I'll take care of you from now on. I promise."

"Yeah." She looks up at you, hugging Ozzy the otter, and you swear you see a red light reflect at the back of her pupils. "You takacara Halien now on."


	4. Chapter 4

_"Take them back to the start; let the purest of heart know their worth is still spoken..."_

-Alter Bridge

Saturday. Five days after you brought Halien home with you and the day she was promised a playdate with Erisol at the park five minutes away. She's up early that morning, even though you aren't supposed to leave until around noon, and jumping up and down on top of you – Kanaya's already left for work. A fashion designer and hair stylist's work is never done. You manage to get the girl to calm down and promise her strawberries if she doesn't say anything about the park until you're getting ready to leave. That makes her quiet down and get off the bed and scamper into the kitchen. When you get there she's standing by the fridge with a red plastic kid's bowl in her little hands. You slice a few large strawberries and put them in the bowl, and she toddles into the living room to eat and watch Adventure Time. Hopefully you can get a little more work done on Complacency of the Learned before you leave; you have a deadline to meet.

* * *

12:37 PM, and you're dressing Halien in one of her Build-A-Bear outfits and helping her put her shoes on. Then you get dressed and freshen up yourself while she's proudly parading around the household announcing to no one that you two are going to the park like she was doing before you even woke up this morning.

Five minutes later, she's scooped up in your arms and you're off. You briefly wonder why you pick her up instead of just letting her walk – you seem to do it without thinking – and then you remember that you're afraid you might end up losing her. She's just too tiny right now.

When you get to the park, you notice a police cruiser pulling up and wonder who's being arrested. Then Rufioh steps out of the driver's seat and little Erisol scrabbles from the back seat. Halien jumps down from your arms and scampers over, and the two trolls take off over the wood chips.

You and Rufioh sit down on a bench near the kids and start talking. It turns out he's a police officer, and you tell him everything Halien and Morty Smith told you. He nods and tells you that the police force has been after Morty's son Kyle Smith for years for animal abuse and possibly drug dealing but have never found any evidence. You're about to say something else, but you suddenly hear a high-pitched scream and there are claws digging into your leg. Then Halien is clinging to your shirt and crying and Erisol comes up asking what happened and then there's some pompous woman with a bug-eyed, trembling white Chihuahua in her arms yelling about how Halien scared her poor Precious and that she ought to file lawsuits. Frankly the ratty little dog doesn't look scared because Chihuahuas always look like that, and when the woman comes closer Halien wails and buries her face in your shirt. Then the woman launches into her rat's breeding history and you're about to give her an earful of how you don't give two shits about her rat's breeding and how you're the one who should be filing the lawsuits, but Rufioh beats you to it. While he gives the woman an earful of the fucks he doesn't give, Halien whimpers "no more doggyhouse, no more doggyhouse" over and over again into your shirt and poor little Erisol is kind of standing there wondering what's going on.

When Rufioh's done the woman leaves and Halien lifts her head. Your shirt is stained a diluted red. "Doggy gone?"

"Yes, little one, the doggy's gone and it won't bother you again," Rufioh reassures and gives her nubby horns a stroke; this calms her down immediately. You make a mental note to remember that. "I'll bet anything that she has a pathological fear of dogs, probably from being penned up with one." His face sets with determination. "Get in the cruiser, Rose. We're going on a manhunt."

* * *

This isn't the first time you've been in a police cruiser – you've had to bail your sister out for drunk driving too many times to count – but this is the first time you've ridden shotgun on a police bust in a cruiser. Erisol and Halien, the latter of which has gotten over her Chihuahua scare, are wee-wooing along with the siren in their little boosterseats and they're both quite happy. Then Rufioh turns the siren off and pulls over for a second and turns around to look at Halien.

"Okay sweetie, I just need you to tell me if you see anything that looks familiar, okay? We're just gonna go back to your last home for a few minutes."

From the rearview mirror, you see Halien visibly stiffen until Rufioh explains further.

"No, we're not sending you back. We're just going to get the guy who put you in the doghouse and hurt you. We're gonna put him in jail so he can't hurt anybody anymore. Is that okay?"

Halien slowly relaxes and nods. "Otay."

Rufioh nods and starts driving slowly, following the road when Halien points out anything familiar. Eventually the cruiser comes to a stop in the driveway of a shabby-looking house overgrown with poison ivy and weeds. You get Halien out of the cruiser and you can feel she's trembling. This place probably brings back a lot of bad memories. Rufioh leaves Erisol in charge of watching the cruiser, a duty which he accepts with a poorly-executed salute and a puffed-out chest. Then he pulls out a pistol and pounds on the front door.

"This is Rufioh Nitram of the Rainbow Falls Police Department. I demand that you open the door."

There's nothing but silence from inside. In the backyard you can hear a dog barking.

"I demand that you open the door," Rufioh repeats.

Again, silence.

"Very well then." He kicks the door in and enters, gun raised.

Except for the dog barking it's so quiet you can hear Rufioh as he opens and closes doors, inspecting. When he opens one door, the barking grows louder and more erratic and a gunshot goes off. The barking ceases and doesn't start up again.

There's silence for another ten minutes before he comes back with a handcuffed, haggard-looking man and a small box under his arm.

"Mr. Smith here has agreed to hand over his custody of Halien and her belongings to you, quite willingly, in fact. Managed to get him to admit that he was also dealing drugs. The dog he owned was beyond saving, and even if that hadn't been the case it was also rabid. It was shot on sight. No more dog." Halien claps her little hands together and Rufioh hands you the box. It's hanging open and you can see a raggedy stuffed scalemate plush – Pyralspite, if you're not mistaken – piles of books, both for children and young adult fantasy novels, and joy oh joy, more Build-A-Bear clothes.

* * *

It's a bit of a struggle, but Rufioh manages to get everyone tucked safely in the cruiser and drops you and Halien off at your house before heading to the police station with his recent arrest. By now Halien's rubbing her eyes and yawning and you're quite tired yourself. Today was exciting. The house phone is saying you have a new voicemail, but you're too tired to listen to it now. You hardly register stretching out on the sofa with Halien curled up against your side.

* * *

Two weeks later. Halien is no longer quite so light, but she's still quite skinny. The good thing is that she's growing each day, enough that if you aren't paying attention it seems like she shot up overnight. She's still below your knees, but it doesn't worry you that much. You're quite tall and you do have rather long legs.

At the current moment Halien is sitting on the couch and trying to sound out words from the first of the Mistmantle Chronicles series – some British fantasy story about a young squirrel trying to rid his island of a tyrant and prove an exiled captain innocent. You've read that book – the whole series in fact – to her so many times, you figured it might be a little easier for her to learn to read. Ozzy and the Pyralspite – or as she calls it, Frosty – are with her.

"But...Cispin...took...a...parti...partcu..."

"Particular."

"Partikular...care...for...da...woodlands...an...da...Anemme..."

"Anemone."

"Anemoney...Wood...creatures..."

Suddenly the doorbell rings. Halien jumps up from the couch, book flung in the air to land God knows where, shouting "igotitigotitIGOTIT". She runs over to the door and climbs up on the chair you keep near it so she can reach the doorknob. You hear the door open, but all that comes after that is silence. You walk in from the bedroom and HOLY SHIT YOU'RE LOOKING AT A FULL-GROWN HALIEN.

No.

No.

Not Halien.

She looks like Halien, but she's not Halien. She doesn't have Halien's thick tawny hair and hazel eyes. Her hair is licorice-black and her eyes are a rich violet. Her horns sweep and curve like that of a deer; any buck would be jealous to have that rack. She's barely five feet tall and she's thin, but she's beautiful in a way you can't describe.

Halien stands a moment longer before finally asking, "Who you?"

The troll smiles, a mouthful of shark teeth. All you can see in her is Halien, and you have no doubt that what she says is true.

"I'm your mama, little one."


	5. Chapter 5

Unfortunately people, I have no idea what's going on with this thing, but it's not letting me get the chapter copied and pasted without putting a ton of unneeded junk in there. So until I get this sorted out, chapters will not be posted on here.

You can, however, still read Chapter Five (and all later chapters) on Archive of Our Own. I have set up an account there under the same username. You can look it up and still read it.

Hopefully all this will be done and over with soon.

I thank you for your time


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